


Father's House

by Mr_Waterworks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Christianity, Humanstuck, Murder, Religious Makaras, Sad, Sadstuck, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Waterworks/pseuds/Mr_Waterworks
Summary: Gamzee Makara tries to gain his father's approval.----Idk humanstuck where GHB is a pastor but also maybe a mafia boss? Idk I like to think that the Makara boys are fucked up bc their dad doesn't pay attention to them at all.





	

 

There's red all over you. You know how it got there because you remember what you did. You lazily smile as you push open the oak doors with both hands, the creaking loud and ominous in the dark emptiness.

The church surrounds you with its blackness, and the dim yellow glow from the candles. You can barely see anything with your matted, wet hair in front of your face. You look down at your arms and see the raindrops on your skin catching the blood and trickling down your fingers. The water and the blood hit the floor with a soft pitter pat. You breathe in real deep.

"Daaaaad." You call out to the darkness. You don't get an immediate response and you go forward, hearing your footsteps echo as you walk down the aisle between rows of pews. You don't have the energy to stand up straight anymore, so you feel your shoulders sag and you drag your feet across the floor as you approach the altar.

"What do you want now, boy?" You hear him say. You smile really wide as you see your father emerge from the dark. He towers over you, taller than both you and your brother, and nowhere near as lanky. He's menacing with snaggled teeth and sharp eyes that look like little black bugs in his skull. His mane of dark hair is barely pulled back and he's still in his robes, looking all priest-like. You give a low chuckle.

He looks down at you and barely snarls at the blood all over your clothes. He doesn't look proud like you thought he would. Huh.

"You proud a' me?" You ask him, confused. "I even brought you a somethin'."

He raises an eyebrow as you reach into your pocket and pull out your trophies. You throw them down at his feet, a bloodstained blue beanie, embroidered with a cat's face, and a broken pair of rectangle lookin' sunglasses. You always did like those. Kitty sis' hat always looked so happy and you planned to get it from her from the day you met her. And Equius' glasses were funny to you and you liked them just as much. Both the items lay pitifully a your dad's feet, covered in blood and he doesn't move to take them.

"I wanted to keep them, but I thought I'd just up and give em to you." You slur, your eyes searching for any emotion in your dad's face. There's nothing. You feel your hands start to shake as he sighs, sounding bored. Then he reaches down to lift the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself almost leaning into him at the touch. You chuckle.

"I got a lil scratched up." You say quietly, referring to the three jagged cuts across your face.

"Go clean yourself up, you fucking animal." You hear him say. At this, you're slightly taken aback. Then he glances down at the floor, your muddy shoes, and your bloody clubs. "You're getting your Father's house dirty."

You struggle to hold on to your clubs as your hands tremble even more. Your lips curl into a snarl and you bare your teeth. You're so motherfucking confused now. Which father is he talking about? God, or himself? Which one? You feel your heart pound in your ears and you're almost brought to your knees by such a crippling question. Are either fathers are impressed with you? The one walking away from you didn't take the things that you killed two goddamn people to get for him. You loved that hat and those glasses, why won't he take them? He loves you, why won't he tell you?

"DAD!" You scream after him. He stops and you freeze. He slowly turns to look at you, glaring with his black beetle eyes. You're standing there, breathing heavily, almost angry at him, because you get so angry sometimes. Angry enough to kill.

"Look at me, you motherfucking son of a bitch." You mutter, shaking uncontrollably as your heartbeat gets louder. You can't say much else, because you don't like disrespecting your dad, but you can't help it this time. You're so angry. You can't help anything when you're angry.

Your dad's expression barely changes, but you know he's angry too. Not angry enough to charge at you and slap you across the face, which he's done before, but angry enough to simply turn around as if nothing had happened and retreat to the rectory. He doesn't hear you as your breathing gets louder and quicker and heavier and he doesn't turn around when you screech with rage and swing your club at a nearby pew. When you look up, your father is gone, and all you can feel is the faint stinging of the cuts on your face.

"Motherfuck..." You breathe, feeling a pang of emptiness as you struggle to remember when you last ate, or more importantly where your brother hid the weed. You look over at the glasses and the hat that lay discarded on the steps up to the altar. You sneer at them, snatching them up and abandoning your clubs on the floor for a moment.

You feel important as you pull the beanie down over your thick mass of black hair and put on the sunglasses. You're barely able to see through the cracks, but you don't really care. You worked hard to take these things from your friends, and you think they'd be awful sad if they went to waste. You chuckle softly as you pick your clubs up from the floor and walk back the way you came, through the dark and glowing emptiness of your father's church.

You look over your shoulder at the statue of Mary in the back of the church. You smile at her as your soft laughing gains volume and you give her a little wave as you push the doors back open. You look outside into the dark street, illuminated only a little by the lamps. It's not raining as much now, so you take a deep breath and decide to go back home to your brother. Hopefully no one would ask why you smelled like blood tomorrow.

 

 


End file.
